


What Wondrous Love Is This?

by fandomlover101



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Not actually a religious story, Partners to Lovers, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Reflection, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlover101/pseuds/fandomlover101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane reflects on what Teresa Lisbon means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Wondrous Love Is This?

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve watched episodes of The Mentalist between bouts of schoolwork and I’ve been looking (not super hard yet) for something describing the relationship between Jane and Lisbon. Sometimes I see them as partners, sometimes best friends, sometimes brother and sister, sometimes parent and child, and sometimes as lovers.
> 
> I tried to keep this relatively open in terms of which season it relates to, but there are references to certain cases, at least up to season five.
> 
> The song is “What Wondrous Love is This?”, a version sung by Chelsea Moon with the Franz Brothers.
> 
> *Warning: there are religious undertones – nothing more than in the show, but I thought I’d add this in.  
> Disclaimer: I own neither “The Mentalist” nor “What Wondrous Love Is This?” Both come from talented people.

They had just solved a case which included the death of a choir member at a church and had been invited to stay for a service. As the closing hymn began, he looked over at Lisbon who had her hymn book open and who was starting to sing. She took a moment to steal a glance at him as well, and gave him a soft smile.

Their relationship had changed over the years that they had known each other. Yet, there was one thing that had remained constant that entire time. From the moment they had first met, Teresa Lisbon had been his protector, his saviour, his best friend.

His guiding light.

_What wondrous love is this? Oh my soul, oh my soul._

_What wondrous love is this? Oh my soul._

_What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss to bare the dreadful curse?_

_For my soul, for my soul._

_To bear the dreadful curse for my soul._

Despite not knowing him before, she had taken on his cursed life. She had opened herself and her own life to him, giving him back a little of what he had lost. It had been rocky at first. The two of them had become involved in a twisted dance – first one led, then the other, then one stepped on the other’s foot, and it continued. Over the years however, they had learned a myriad of dance moves – they knew when the other needed guidance and what kind of dance was necessary in that moment. They learned to compromise for the other.

It had taken a long time for them to trust the other though. There had been many ups and downs. In their early years, before Van Pelt had joined the team, there had been little trust between them. He had often disappeared on his own, only asking for Lisbon when it was necessary. In return, Lisbon had put up with him because he “closed cases”. He had been a thorn in her side for so long, he wasn’t even sure when their turning point was. One moment they were only colleagues who had to work hard to keep even a working relationship. The next, she was telling him that there were people who cared about him, and needed him, not just for their personal gain, but because they wanted him there as an individual and he was shooting Hardy, his first best lead in a long time to Red John.

She began to put more faith in him then. He hadn’t really known how to deal with it. Nobody had trusted him, or had done more than put up with him for awhile. She hadn’t given up though. No, she had given a little bit more, and then so had he. They had finally begun finding a rhythm that worked for both of them. They became each other’s confidants.

_When I was sinking down, sinking down, sinking down._

_When I was sinking down, sinking down._

_When I was sinking down, beneath God’s righteous frown,_

_Christ laid aside his crown, for my soul, for my soul._

_Christ laid aside his crown, for my soul_

When Detective Hannigan had punched him Lisbon had defended him despite knowing him for all of two minutes. Of course, that had been due partly to her inherent nature – she was always ready to defend the underdog. And he had been the underdog then: desperate for knowledge and revenge, fresh from the mental institution, his recent horror from a year prior still at the forefront of his mind. He had been a shell of himself. Lisbon had slowly begun to draw him out, to make him see the good in life again, against all odds.

At every turn, someone had been waiting and ready to tell him off (not entirely without reason), and despite wanting to punch him herself sometimes, Lisbon had always come to his rescue first. That hadn’t changed over the years. What had changed was just how willing to follow him she was. Rather than simply making excuses for him, she was readily following his leads and becoming an accomplice rather than an enforcer or his own parole officer. Gone were the days when someone had to take “Jane duty” – he now spent most of his time with her, and when he wasn’t with her, she knew that he would call her immediately if something was about to happen. More often than not, she was already with him, just for the hell of it.

_To God and to the lamb, I will sing, I will sing._

_To God and to the lamb, I will sing._

_To God and to the lamb, who is the great I am,_

_While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing._

_While millions join the theme, I will sing._

He often thought about William Blake’s _The Tyger_ , and considered himself an outsider or even narrator to the poem. Red John was of course, the Tyger, but the Lamb had given him pause until he had watched Lisbon comfort a grieving mother, promising to bring justice for the murdered little girl. Then he had understood. Lisbon was the lamb.

With every life she saved, and every criminal she put away, Lisbon was cherished more and more by those around her: her team, other coworkers, bosses, and even those she met in passing, on a case or otherwise.

She represented the good in the world. Lisbon was the one who gave people hope, and who made people want to do the right thing. She had proven that to him time and again. It had even affected him. He sometimes thought about Lisbon telling Bosco that he made her a better cop. He had laughed at the time, but sometimes he wondered. She had been caring and nurturing before, he knew, but like ice. She had had to work hard to get where she was and it showed, (and in his belief) taken its toll on her team and on her investigations. Eventually she had loosened up. Yet, she got into a lot more trouble now for this change in personality. Still, she found it within herself to let go, giving him not only second chances, but one hundred of them, maybe even two hundred, and it was especially striking when he even knew that he didn’t deserve it.

_And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on._

_And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on._

_And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing his love for me._

_And through eternity, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on._

_And through eternity, I’ll sing on._

Death didn’t scare him, as he had once told Anthony Gupta. Yet he knew that he couldn’t rest until he was free of the deaths of those around him, namely Lisbon. He couldn’t bear to lose her. He understood now that should anything happen to her, he would not be able to regain his sanity. Either he would spend the rest of his days in a mental asylum, or he would follow her into the dark abyss.

They had each had their close calls. Lisbon with Hardy, Gupta, O’Laughlin just to think of a few (he tried to avoid thinking about these moments at all cost), and he himself with many of their suspects and murderers. The panic that he felt when she was in danger took over his entire body. She was the physical one in their undefinable relationship. She was the one with the training, and the gun. When someone needed to be chased, she took up that opportunity while he waited behind. She was first to enter a building, and first to throw herself into harm’s way. It was simply a part of the job. It didn’t mean that each time didn’t scare him almost to death as he waited with bated breath to know that she was okay.

There was no one else, he knew, that he would be able to give himself over to as he had to Lisbon. It was why he resisted so much when he had to work with other people. She had control over him because she had earned his respect through hard work, determination, attitude, strength, and caring nature. Another impressive feature was that it was a rare day that she wouldn’t take advice as she was given it. She constantly listened to him, as crazy as some of his theories were, not to mention others. She didn’t ignore people’s ideas and intelligence, she respected them enough to at least consider them.

She was also able to play his games with him and give as good as she got. She didn’t have the background in observation that he did (that came with years of practice in being a con man), but she was good at her job. She tried hard, fighting for justice, and never giving up simply because it was tough.

He reflected as he reached over and took her hand, their fingers easily intertwining. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but Teresa Lisbon could very well be his Saviour.


End file.
